


Will You Stay?

by Creme_Fraiche



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Obi-Wan Kenobi, Comfort/Angst, First Time Bottoming, Jealous Obi-Wan Kenobi, Love Confessions, M/M, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a greedy bottom, Oral Sex, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Qui-Gon Jinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24543988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creme_Fraiche/pseuds/Creme_Fraiche
Summary: "It burned Obi-Wan in a way that he couldn’t describe, it burned through his eyes, burned like tears threatening to burst through. Anakin was a rose in his master’s eyes, and he was not the same. He was a pear, a fruit fallen from the bough, into the soil; ripe no longer. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t. It wasn’t the Jedi way."..."Kriff to the Jedi way."Obi-Wan asks his master to spend the night with him, unprepared for where his proposal would lead him.Loosely inspired by "Will You Stay?" by Ryah Nixon and Carrie Manolakos from the musical Lizzie.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105





	Will You Stay?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Long time reader, first time poster! This is my first work I've posted publicly in over 8 years, I'm very rusty so constructive criticism is very much appreciated! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Obi-Wan had always wanted to be close to his master. Any chance he got, he would stand beside him, behind him or even in front of him, as close as he could be. The fact of it was, if he couldn’t feel Qui-Gon’s body heat radiating into him, he didn’t think he was close enough. Qui-Gon never pushed him away, and oftentimes even welcomed him into a loving embrace. Obi-Wan fondly remembered one day where he even lay a hand on Qui-Gon’s chest, and it felt almost as if time stopped. And he felt at peace, there in his Master’s arms. 

But then the boy came along. The prodigal child. This ‘chosen one’. Anakin. Obi-Wan had become an afterthought to his master almost overnight, Qui-Gon preferring to train Anakin over his Padawan. 

“You’ve learned enough, my young Padawan. You are ready to make your own way in the universe.” He would often repeat this statement to Obi-Wan; but Obi-Wan wasn’t ready. He would never be ready without his master at his side. He felt he could never be  _ whole  _ without his master at his side. But attachments like this are the path to the dark side, he would think, attachments are not the Jedi way. 

And every time he folded Qui-Gon’s laundry, every time he cooked him a meal, which he would take so graciously, a sparkle in his eye… Obi-Wan melted like a lightsaber through butter. His heart would race at the thought of his master taking to his chambers when the moons were high, disrobing at the foot of his bed. He would rest his knees into the sheets as he climbs onto the bed, his muscular thighs scattered with dark hair shifting, tensing, gliding towards Obi-Wan’s delicate form. Qui-Gon’s strong, calloused hands would meet tender, virile flesh at a fleeting chance, soon becoming a firm grip on tight hips. Entering, grinding, thrusting…

Obi-Wan was in love with his master. Wildly and foolishly in love with a man who, at one time, he believed could have loved him back. But not anymore, not since Tatooine. Not since Anakin arrived. 

** ** **

The days had become weeks since Anakin had joined them back to Coruscant, Qui-Gon had won his battle against the council for his right to train the supposed ‘chosen one’. He believed in this boy so strongly, so valiantly. Obi-Wan would stand so close to him when they were before the council, he could see the veins on the side of his master’s neck growing and pulsing as the tension within him bubbled, but he always kept composure. This is the way. The  _ Jedi _ way. 

That night in their quarters, Qui-Gon was pacing the living area as he had been for the last hour, Obi-Wan sitting tentatively on the large plush couch, silent as he waited for his master to speak. Silence dusted the air, a comfortable silence. The sort of silence that passes between the lips of lovers as they break a first kiss. 

The silence was eventually broken as Qui-Gon stopped, looking skyward as if searching for answers to his questions, the melting pot of doubt and concern that brewed inside coming to the surface at last with a deep,    
“Kriff, Obi-Wan,” He sighed at last, “It feels almost as if the Force has deserted me.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered for a second, rising to his feet to approach his master,

“My master, you… That could never happen. You are at one with the Force.” He replied, his hands clenched into fists at his side. How he wanted to hold his master close, whisper his love into his chest and assure him that everything would be okay. That he would always be here, that he loved him and held him above all else. Qui-Gon turned to face Obi-Wan slowly, his hard gaze softening as he looked upon his young Padawan. He smiled gently, nodding. 

“You’re right. My apologies, Padawan, I shouldn’t say such things.” 

The way his master looked at him sent shivers into Obi-Wan’s very being, rippling through his body like shocks. He could just reach out and touch him, take him. Qui-Gon would always be his master. He should always be his master. He will always be  _ his  _ master. 

“Are you alright, my young one?” 

Qui-Gon’s voice shattered Obi-Wan’s fantasy, bringing him back to the moment. He stared in a zombie-like state at his master for a brief moment, before nodding his head and swallowing the knot in his throat, smiling.    
“Yes, master. It’s getting late, I think it is time for us to retire.”

Qui-Gon’s shoulders lifted slightly, his jaw clenching. He looked towards the door that led into Anakin’s bedchamber, where the small child lay blissfully asleep. A tenderness passed over Qui-Gon’s gaze, a sweetness that made Obi-Wan’s stomach twist, that made his temples pulse with fire.

“The boy… He is precious, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon spoke slowly, turning back to face Obi-Wan, “He will be a target for the Trade Federation, maybe worse… The Sith reemergence that we fear.” 

His eyes had become heavy, almost exhausted. These worries lay heavily on his mind, and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to relieve his master of his fears. He stepped closer, willing Qui-Gon to look at him,  _ wanting  _ him to look at him.

“I am afraid that somebody will do something,” Qui-Gon said at last, “I don’t know what, but somebody will do something. I will not be able to rest until I know that the boy is safe.”

Obi-Wan looked to the floor, understanding his master’s words. He always understood his master’s words.  _ I understand you master. Please.  _

“I wish that I could sleep with my eyes half open, my Padawan,” Qui-Gon sat heavily on the couch, returning his stare to the ceiling, “Is that strange? Am I going senile?” He chuckled throatily, eyes falling half lidded.

“No, my master,” Obi-Wan took slow steps towards where Qui-Gon sat, his braid falling gently over his shoulder as he toyed with it, “If you would hear me, I would like to make a suggestion.”   
His voice trembled, he could feel the tremors from the tip of his braid all the way through his body. Everything in his mind was screaming at him to do it, take him. Make him see that no one will ever love him the way that you do, Obi-Wan. 

“Would you maybe try closing your eyes, master?” 

Qui-Gon lifted his head, looking into his Padawan, eyes glassy and clouded with a mysterious haze. He cocked a smile, humoured by Obi-Wan. He shifted his weight, sitting up slightly and closing his eyes as he had been asked. Obi-Wan’s breath hitched slightly as he took another step forward. He lingered before his master for a moment, his cloak sliding off of his shoulders and pooling at his feet. The corner of Qui-Gon’s lip twitched as he felt the shift in atmosphere, but his eyes remained closed. Obi-Wan took the plunge, straddling Qui-Gon’s lap with a hand delicately placed on each of his master’s broad, rippling shoulders. The sudden weight of his Padawan on his lap caused Qui-Gon to jump, his eyes shooting open and looking up at the young man on top of him.

“Obi-Wan?” The wind had been taken out of him, and for the first time since they had been together as Master and Padawan, he was speechless. Obi-Wan’s heart was racing, this was happening. He was so  _ close  _ to his master, the only thing separating their skin was mere cloth and linen. 

“I can open up your heart, master,” Obi-Wan drifted closer to him slowly, gazing down at his master wistfully, “Will you lay… With me?”

Qui-Gon’s skin was hot, his eyes wide. The pressure of Obi-Wan on his body sent his mind into orbit, spinning and circling the air around them, his chest tight, a twitch travelling from his shoulder, down his arms and into his fingertips. His hands twisted into the fabric of the pillows beneath them, beads of sweat forming in his hairline, dancing aimlessly down his forehead. 

The air became thick as Obi-Wan’s question hung in the space between them, a tension building up in the pit of his stomach. That tension began to swell, growing into a bludgeoning doubt that gnawed at his insides. 

_ Why wouldn’t he answer?  _

The dead space was filled by a drawn out, heavy yet almost tightened sigh from Qui-Gon, his chest falling slowly. 

“Obi-Wan, this is… Deeply inappropriate,” Qui-Gon shifted his weight, his grip on the fabric loosening, “You know that this is not the way.”

And suddenly, the tension that had swelled in Obi-Wan’s gut consumed his entire being, and as his worst fears became a reality he felt himself slipping, slipping off of Qui-Gon’s lap. His chest felt numb and cold. He met the soft plushness of the couch cushions heavily, wanting gravity to pull him into the crevices, to crush him under the immense weight of the rejection. 

Qui-Gon rose from the couch, casting his gaze back over to Anakin’s bedchambers, his body relaxing slowly.    
“We have to consider how Anakin would feel,” He began as he moved away from Obi-Wan, “Have you any idea the ramifications of these feelings could be, Obi-Wan? He is the  _ chosen one _ , we cannot afford to cause him harm, be it physical or emotional.” His tone was dark, serious. The sort of tone Obi-Wan never wanted to hear Qui-Gon use, not with him. Please, not with him. 

Qui-Gon remained with his back to Obi-Wan, gaze fixated on the door ahead of him. The way he looked, so loving and so caringly. It burned Obi-Wan in a way that he couldn’t describe, it burned through his eyes, burned like tears threatening to burst through. Anakin was a rose in his master’s eyes, and he was not the same. He was a pear, a fruit fallen from the bough, into the soil; ripe no longer. He wanted to cry but he couldn’t. _It_ _wasn’t the Jedi way_.

Kriff to the Jedi way.

Obi-Wan fell to his knees, grasping desperately at his master’s leg, the facade of his usual grace and decorum crumbling around him as he helplessly sobbed,

“Master, please,” He begged, “My insides, they hurt when I think about you loving that boy, that you might love him more than you love me, please…”   
Obi-Wan’s words fell into his sobs, slurring as he clung to Qui-Gon’s leg, face buried deep in the leather of his master’s boot. Qui-Gon looked down at Obi-Wan, his once proud Padawan a mess at his feet. He was swept with a wave of emotions, seeping from pity to remorse, a gentle smile creeping across his face. He turned, kneeling and wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan, scooping him up into a warm embrace. Obi-Wan continued to sob, his arms wrapped tightly around his master, so tight it was like he believed that he would die without the contact. 

“Hush, my Padawan…” Qui-Gon whispered tenderly, cradling Obi-Wan, “My love for the boy is nothing like my love for you, young one.”   
  
Obi-Wan choked slightly, his throat hoarse from the overwhelming force that came with his breakdown, looking up at Qui-Gon. His eyes were puffy and red, and as he wet his lips with his tongue, his fingertips traced a gentle circle on the older man’s chest,

“I’m sorry, master…”

Qui-Gon carried Obi-Wan through to his chambers, laying him delicately on the bed, running his hand over his forehead to unstick the hairs that clung to his Padawan’s forehead. He smiled, the moonlight shining from the window casting a shadow across his face, his blue eyes like glass in the dark as he loomed over Obi-Wan. 

“I will always love you, my Padawan, please know this.” He began to turn, pausing as he felt Obi-Wan grasp at his hand.

“Will you stay, master?”    
  
The way Obi-Wan asked so tenderly for his master’s company made the hairs on the back of Qui-Gon’s neck stand on end. The feeling of want and desire radiating from his Padawan, penetrating his Force aura, deep into the core of his being. He looked back at Obi-Wan, lay there in the sheets, his robes hanging so delicately off his frame. And this time, Qui-Gon did not refuse. 

He climbed onto the bed, lingering over his Padawan beneath him, trailing the back of his hand down Obi-Wan’s cheek gingerly, a warmth rising in him he hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t resist him, he had to have him. And Obi-Wan was more than willing to give his master everything.

They kissed, lips meeting in a powerful clash, and in that moment Obi-Wan swore that he could feel the galaxy spinning around them. The silence in the room was perfect. The feeling of lips against lips filled his body with joy, and he couldn’t help but tug at anything he could get his hands on. One hand found Qui-Gon’s belt, fumbling to unbuckle it as his other hand met his master’s, locking together and resting on the pillow beside his head. Qui-Gon’s belt slid off his body, his robes becoming slack and hanging loose from his body. 

Qui-Gon broke the kiss, moving upright to begin disrobing. Obi-Wan’s bottom lip trembled, he had to restrain himself from salivating. His fantasies were coming to life before his very eyes, his master was there - with  _ him _ . Obi-Wan sat up beneath his master, nervously helping him undress, the layers of thick, woven fabric falling to reveal the hardened, rough skin of a Jedi Master. Qui-Gon gave a sharp wince as his torso was exposed, his back arching to bring him closer to Obi-Wan, who greeted him with peppered kisses across his master’s chest, barely containing his excitement to finally touch the body he’d dreamt of for so many nights. So many times he’d thought that if Qui-Gon only  _ knew  _ how Obi-Wan would dream of him, would he still… 

Qui-Gon threw his robes aside with disregard, taking Obi-Wan into a passionate embrace, kissing him with burning desire, his strong hands disrobing his Padawan almost knowingly, like he’d thought about this before, like he had it all planned meticulously. Just like Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan thought with a hot blush rising to his cheeks, just like Qui-Gon to know exactly what to do.

And here he was, in his master’s arms, giving him complete control of his body, his inhibitions and even his mind. His body felt limp, Qui-Gon undressing him so easily, exposing his smooth and unmarked skin. Qui-Gon chuckled, running a hand down to the small of Obi-Wan’s back, causing the smaller man to gasp against his lips, eager for more of his master’s touch. He was  _ desperate  _ for it. Both men slid their boots off their feet, kicking them off the bed so that they were left only in their undergarments, protective and thermal, hidden from sight outside the walls of a Jedi’s sleeping chambers and ‘freshers. The thought alone that Qui-Gon could see him like this sent Obi-Wan’s mind reeling, his hands fisting around clumps of Qui-Gon’s thick, dark hair. He pulled his master closer, wanting more from his lips, craving more of his taste. Mature, like the finest Alderaanian Emera. He began to move back, bringing Qui-Gon with him until they lay down again, breaking contact to gaze longingly into his eyes.    
  
Qui-Gon’s groin throbbed as he looked down upon his Padawan, as he lay beneath him with the sheets draped so scandalously across his bare torso. 

“You are so beautiful, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon lowered his voice to barely above a whisper, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric of Obi-Wan’s undergarments, causing his Padawan to whine in delight, pulling them down to allow his perfectly uncut cock to spring free, already leaking with precum. Qui-Gon ran his finger up the length of Obi-Wan’s shaft, pausing at the head to circle it, watching him squirm and grasp feverishly at the sheets, body writhing in pure ecstasy. It was perfect. He moved his finger from the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock, trailing a string of precum that glistened oh so gently in the moonlight that broke through the shadows of the night. With unsurprising strength, Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan further up the bed, before lowering himself to take his Padawan’s cock into his mouth, the hot wetness clawing a cry of pure, unabashed euphoria from the depths of Obi-Wan’s chest, his hands shooting out to grasp either side of Qui-Gon’s head. He jerked his hips slightly, pushing himself further into his master’s mouth, who took him in graciously. Obi-Wan had never experienced anything like this before, he had never  _ experienced  _ before. He had saved himself, his entire life for this moment. 

Qui-Gon began to shift his lips from the base of Obi-Wan’s shaft to the tip, sliding back down to repeat the motion; all while running his tongue hungrily around his Padawan’s cock. His hands ran up and down Obi-Wan’s athletic body, mapping his form and committing it to memory, wanting to never forget this night for as long as he would live. Obi-Wan’s skin was hot and taut beneath Qui-Gon’s wandering hands, smooth and clean shaven, without the gristle of body hair that decorated his own muscular body. He was fascinated by everything he touched, his mouth rising from Obi-wan’s cock with a gasp, looking toward his Padawan with longing. 

Suddenly, he hooked his arms under Obi-Wan’s legs, lifting them up over his own broad shoulders, cupping his hands on the smaller man’s firm, tight ass, using his thumbs to pull apart his cheeks to expose his pink, virginal hole. 

“Please, master…” Obi-Wan whined, almost breathless, “I need you, please…”

He pushed himself toward Qui-Gon, begging for his touch. The sensation of Qui-Gon trailing his tongue across the edge of his hole made him shiver, his vision turned fuzzy, the shape of the canopy over his bed becoming nothing more than a blur. Qui-Gon ran circles around Obi-Wan’s hole, leaning back to spit into both his hands, using one to lubricate his own hard cock, the other pushing fingers delicately inside his lover’s tight entrance to ease him open, kissing his inner thigh softly. He needed Obi-Wan to know that he wasn’t going to hurt him. He pushed a second finger inside, performing a scissoring motion to stretch him, preparing him for his cock. Obi-Wan curved and groaned in total bliss, hooking his legs around Qui-Gon to pull him closer. There was a hunger inside him, he needed to be filled. He needed his master’s cock. 

Adjusting himself on the bed, Qui-Gon rose to a kneel, lining himself up with Obi-Wan’s hole. With a slow push, he began to enter, the tightness around the head of his cock causing him to lurch, fingers digging into Obi-Wan’s thighs, teeth gritted. He looked over his Padawan, who looked back with burning want, a lustful desire sparking behind his eyes. He nodded, signalling Qui-Gon that he was ready for more. With another slow push, he fully sheathed himself inside Obi-Wan, a deep, guttural growl escaping his lips. His body glistened with sweat in the night, moving his hands to grip Obi-Wan’s waist, beginning to thrust slowly, his thumbs kneading the flesh around his lover’s abdomen. He groaned, his thrusts rhythmic and deep, eyes trained on Obi-Wan as he lovingly took his Padawan’s virginity. 

Obi-Wan found his master’s forearms, gripping them tightly, lifting his head to meet Qui-Gon’s gaze, clenching his jaw and grunting as he met each thrust, 

“Give me more, master,” He urged, pulling on Qui-Gon’s wrists, “I can take it, I promise.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smirk, nor could he stop himself from giving Obi-Wan exactly what he wanted. He let go of his waist, reaching under his legs to grab his hands, pulling on them to force him further down into each thrust, his cock curving into his lover’s insides, drawing out louder and yet louder moans from Obi-Wan, watching him glow with jubilation, every fantasy coming true. His master was fucking his brains out, he couldn’t be happier. Every thrust took him closer to the edge, his cock twitching furiously, precum leaking freely down the length of his shaft.    
  


“More, master,” Obi-Wan pleaded, throwing his head back to hit the pillow, “I need more!”

Qui-Gon lay back, bringing Obi-Wan up to straddle him, his cock remaining fully sheathed. He grabbed at his lover’s ass roughly, grunting as he began to thrust upwards into him, pulling at his cheeks to spread them, desperate to get deeper. Obi-Wan whined eagerly, planting his knees either side of Qui-Gon, positioning himself to rise and fall in sync with his master’s thrusts, eyes crossing as he felt Qui-Gon’s thick, hard cock in his guts, cock slapping loudly against the other man’s glistening abs, precum sticking to create a rope between them. Qui-Gon’s neck craned, a familiar heat beginning to rise in his groin, a tingling sensation passing over his balls, his grip on Obi-Wan’s ass tightening, one hand shooting up to grab the dangling Padawan braid, giving it a harsh tug.

“I love you, master,” Obi-Wan cried out, his back arching, his hands landing on Qui-Gon’s thighs, grasping at them as his cock erupted thick, hot spurts of cum, glazing his master’s abs and chest, his eyes rolling back. Qui-Gon groaned lowly, delivering a final deep thrust into his lover, filling him with his load, his juices leaking out around his cock to pool at the base. A stillness passed over the room, a calm that neither man had felt in a long time. Obi-Wan’s shoulders lowered, his body relaxing in the comedown from his orgasmic high, and as he looked down at Qui-Gon, he couldn't help but grin. He rolled forward, laying across his master’s chest and kissing his cheek tenderly. 

“Sleep now, master. I’ll keep my eyes half open,” He traced a slow line down Qui-Gon’s cheek, watching the light drift from his eyes as he began to enter a slumber. And Obi-Wan lay his head on his master, ear pressed to his chest to hear his slowed heartbeat, his eyes fixed on the door. Through the force, he opened the door, allowing him to see through the living area and to Anakin’s bedroom door.

“One eye open, half the time.”

** ** **

  
  



End file.
